Kilgharrah
by Jonquil Gemstone
Summary: An immortal dragon aging to death? Not likely. Besides...the Entities wouldn't let him quit like that. As a matter of fact, he has many more adventures awaiting him. A new story involving Kilgharrah, Aithusa, Arthur, Emrys, Buckbeak, Fawkes, and a unicorn...maybe Dumbledore, as well. Original characters and mechanisms, too.
1. Chapter 1

I.

In the depths of a tremendous mountain range, the trolls kept their most dangerous and hated prisoners. In their own hideous tongue, they called their dungeon the Mines of Torment. At the moment, only three were held captive in there; however, the Unfortunates, as they were called, would soon gain a new inmate. The trolls here were not only disgusting, vain, and hateful like their brethren, but bloodthirsty and violent…as a result, their most wanted consisted of only the most noble and heroic of beings in the magical world. Of course, this should come as no surprise: the very definition of evil is to reject all goodness, just as goodness is to accept love.

Created to hold those with great power, skill, and cunning, the Mines of Torment were laced with power-dampening enchantments which could render even the warlock Emrys no more magical than a simple magician. The trolls considered themselves very clever for this, considering the recent annulment of Uther Pendragon's ban on magic. More and more creatures of magic and wonder have exited from hiding, and nearly all of them had sworn devotion to their "liberator", Queen Guinevere. The problem for the trolls lay in these creatures' attempts to protect helpless mortals from evils which had also risen. As a rule, these particular trolls actively despised happiness—after all, they gained strength from pain. That is why these practitioners of dark magic set out to capture, torture, and kill any who wished to play heroes. Finally, after trying so fervently, they captured their primary target: The Great Dragon.

Though many credited Emrys with saving the future of Albien, the wizard could never have done so much without the assistance of the most ancient voice of wisdom to walk this Earth. Or so the trolls said, in order to mask the true fear in their stone hearts.

The large, limp figure of Kilgharrah was dragged into the caverns, clearly unconscious, by ten trolls. Previously rumored to be on the brink of death, The Great Dragon apparently recovered from whatever ailed him. Emrys would have been shocked: the last time his path crossed the dragon's, the latter's appearance was lackluster at best. Now, as he faced incarceration yet again, Kilgharrah once again looked like himself. His scales shone golden, the spikes covering his spine and brows were ivory-colored, his face was lean and young, and his claws were long, curved, and sharp. His scales were harder than ever before, forming a virtually impenetrable armor around him. The three inmates—a phoenix, a hippogriff, and a unicorn—could only watch gloomily as the awe-inspiring specimen was carelessly heaved into a dank pit with a moist floor. To hear the resounding thud and see the heavy chains latched onto the cell's upper rim was to endure hopelessness itself.

"So much for the 'Great Golden Dragon'!" sneered one of the loathsome trolls as he and his comrades left the honorable reptile. They all laughed at the thought of how easily the legend was defeated: clearly, they thought, no one could match _their_ mighty squadrons.

The dragon opened one eye to look in the trolls' direction as their echoing footsteps faded into nothingness. It was neither glazed nor pitiful, as it ought to have been; instead, it was clear, bright, and focused. Noting his position and verifying the trolls' absence, Kilgharrah opened his other eye and smiled smugly. He felt almost like chuckling.

 _So,_ he thought as he brought his golden gaze about him, _these are the infamous Mines of Torment_ _._ Kilgharrah noted the dampness, the darkness, the sheer filth of it all. Mold was everywhere, and the sky was but a memory in this underground prison. The Great Dragon scratched at the floor beneath him experimentally, and he instantly regretted doing so. It was coated with a thick layer of who-knows-what and wouldn't-care-to-find-out. He suppressed the urge to squirm in disgust. _Luckily, their hubris blinds them._ Kilgharrah distracted himself from his surroundings by focusing on his mission. _The trolls could have decided not to take any chances with me...if they were wise. H_ is proud smirk returned. _Now I have the upper hand._


	2. Chapter 2

**A quick note: this story is** **officially** **dedicated to Shiruu, the first person ever to favorite this fanfiction.**

 **A special thanks** **to LightProud for following this story.**

 **I'm deeply honored and touched that you liked the first chapter enough to favorite/follow it! I really do appreciate your encouragement.**

II.

The Great Dragon had been tossed into a deep pit too narrow for him to spread his wings and too deep for him to claw his way out. Even if he had either one of those options, the opening at the pit's top was covered by a veritable net of heavy iron chains. This came as no surprise: the Great Dragon had predicted this much. Furthermore, he knew he would be relying heavily upon his own wit in order to survive. Not even he, a creature of magic, could withstand the oppressive force of the trolls' enchantments…only creatures of _dark_ magic could thrive here without significant assistance.

Once the suffocating effects of the wicked charms—namely lethargy and lack of mental coordination—trickled away completely, Kilgharrah felt suddenly grateful for the significant assistance he had been given.

Lifting his left frontal foot, he observed carefully the runes etched into it by the high priestesses of the triple goddess. Its protective qualities may have been powerful, but the runes carried a purpose, after which they would disappear, along with any defense against the suppressing enchantments lacing these caverns. _The challenge,_ mused the Great Dragon, _lay in its purpose. Just as it does in all of life._ Frankly, he himself was experiencing a difficulty in his own purpose. Such a thing had not happened since his early youth, and yet…he had helped the young warlock. He protected Merlin, and by extension the young Pendragon, to the best of his abilities. What more could he do? His species was dead, Arthur's demise had come about until further notice, and Merlin had grown into his destiny.

Chiding himself for straying in thought, Kilgharrah once again turned towards the matter at hand. _Or foot_ , he smirked at his internal joke. He could do whatever he chose with this rune, on the condition that he should not be capable of it himself under normal circumstance. He must "require the runes' assistance", as the priestesses had put it. The wording was important: it was always crucial to consider precisely what the Entities decreed. The runes ought to hold the keys. Luckily, the Great Dragon was still fluent in the Ancient Language. The ancient symbols stood for:

"Unity

Trust

Humility

Craft

Wisdom"

Of course, he knew that _before_ allowing himself to be taken prisoner, yet he nonetheless mused over their meanings. He needed the help of the runes. He needed these qualities, was that it? The possibility was worrisome, but obviously there; however, because he had the last quality in abundance, he knew he lacked some of the others. Perhaps the other Unfortunates (he wouldn't disagree with the title, given the location) possessed what he wanted. That gave rise to yet another possibility: he could require _their_ assistance as well, if the runes were to function. He somehow needed to link their magical essences to his own, then channel them all into the runes to create one unbelievably powerful spell to end the trolls' rising terrorism. Sighing, he noticed one large hole in his plan: they did not have protection from the suppressing spell of the Mines, as he did. Therefore, the plan could only work with a living vessel to establish any sort of connection.

Even then, there was the matter of just what spell to cast. He could destroy the mountain…but the falling rubble would likely fall anywhere, and the Entities—the triple goddess, the twins Fate and Destiny, Death, the Cailleach, and Nature—would be enraged. Granted, it would not be his first time frustrating them, but Kilgharrah would understand their anger should he take such a course. Even if he did, it would never _solve_ the problem, only hinder it for a short while. Killing all the trolls within the area would have a similar result: this was not the entire terrorist population, and even if it was, the natural balance in the world would be heavily disturbed. Who else would be the scavengers of the Earth?

There was one spell he had once attempted out of curiosity. Thinking it through, that particular enchantment would free the other Unfortunates from their wearying bonds and allow for an escape. It would also seal their reliance on him…as well as his own reliance on them.

As Kilgharrah recognized his thought patterns and discovered a third possible meaning to the runes, he heard the sound of another creature approaching, this one nearly his own size.


	3. Chapter 3

III.

Kilgharrah reached out with his consciousness, but only enough to gain general knowledge of what approached him in his confinement. With considerable shock, he recognized the soul of a dragon. The only other in existence was Aithusa, with no doubt. Was she a prisoner as well? His heart sank at the possibility. He heard neither chains nor any sort of rolling cage. How would they transport a fully grown dragon, unless—

A pale head stretched into his line of sight when the golden dragon peered upwards. It was smooth and delicate, undoubtedly female. At least now he knew Aithusa was female: the last time he laid eyes on her was at her hatching. He also knew, however, she was not a fellow inmate. There was something very wrong about her appearance: she looked old and worn to a near-lifeless husk, from what he could tell…dragons could not deteriorate in such a manner without negative intervention with their health. In Kilgharrah's case, he was confined and starved; as a matter of fact, he willfully continued the starvation after his release, until the triple goddess and Destiny prevented his passing. Looking at Aithusa, he now understood just how petty and foolish his decision was. If she had him as a companion, or even knew he existed…but there was no use in questioning the past now. She made a curious chirping noise.

 _What are you? A bird?_ Kilgharrah teased her telepathically. He felt as though she would not give away his secret, but just in case he added: _as your kindred, I request you keep my secrets._ It was an ancient phrase in the purest form of the Dragon's Tongue. He himself created it before the first dragonlords came to be: the solemn request established an unbreakable bond between them, and so it could never be broken. He heard an annoyed hiss, followed by Aithusa's reply.

Aithusa traveled through the Mines of Torment on her nightly rounds, except it was different this time. _This time_ , she thought, _this time I see another dragon._ It was difficult convincing the Troll King to let her guard the newest prisoner: he thought she would pity him, as she sometimes did the others.

" _And if I do?" Aithusa had retorted in his Majesty's language. "As long as I do not release him, it would be no betrayal". The Troll tongue came easily to her, unlike other languages. It consisted of snorts, grunts, and squeals. Needless to say, she felt more as if she were letting out frustration or trying to snort in boogers than actually speaking._

" _Be warned, young lizard" Aithusa scowled at being called a lizard yet again. She did not enjoy the rudeness, but trolls found a lack of etiquette to show lack of character, and she had to respect their somewhat backwards culture. "The Great Golden Dragon might try to turn you astray. Do_ _not_ _allow him to."_

" _Never." She bowed her head, trying not to show her doubt. These people, they were often so cruel. Surely Morgana would not have stood for it? Yet they said otherwise: they claimed in order to bring justice to the wicked, some toughness was required. The only reason she accepted that excuse was because Morgana herself had believed it, and there was no one else to turn to for help against Queen Guinevere. The troll king snorted and leaned back in his cold, smelly throne, grabbing one piece of rotted fruit after another. The air stirred foul odors about, making Aithusa wish to vomit._

" _Fine. If you break those chains, lizard,_ _you_ _'ll be next to enter the pit. Understand?"_

Oh, how angry she felt when he said that! The very thought infuriated her. She knew she ought to do something about it: release the Great Dragon, definitely. If he did serve evil kings and warlocks, perhaps all he needed was to discover his errors. She felt no obligation to this supposed "king of trolls" anymore. Maybe Guinevere had changed since Morgana knew her. As a matter of fact, she had been questioning her departed mentor and friend for some time now. Ever since that boy, Mordred, came into their lives, everything felt wrong somehow.

Once the Great Dragon was free, they could battle evil together. She wouldn't need the trolls anymore. Maybe there was a magical cure for her malformations, but that was not so necessary since she had stopped growing. Now she could put up reasonably well with the discomfort of moving, and she could even hunt for herself quite easily!

Lost in thought, she arrived with heavier feet than usual at the pit. Her lip curled at the sight of the thing, and her spine prickled with inexplicable fear.

As she approached, however, her curiosity grew until it eclipsed any sign of fury or panic. Reaching her head over the chain-covered opening, she saw through constantly misted eyes a creature more brilliant than any she had ever seen! His scales must have been sculpted from the Sun itself. How else could they shine so brightly? He had spikes along his spine, and even over his eyes. Was she supposed to have them as well? Wonder filled her, and the young dragoness wanted so desperately to ask all of her questions, but all she could make herself do was chirp inquisitively.

 _What are you? A bird?_ Aithusa was startled. She did not expect to be taunted; however, he did it with a smirk in his tone that somehow did not offend her. _As your kindred,_ the Great Dragon continued more seriously, _I request you keep my secrets._

 _What are we?_ Was all she could think of as a reply.

 **Something to note about me: I like to explore different characters whenever I write, and I enjoy taking all of you with me! A horizontal line indicates a change in P.O.V. , and in this story's case, some things are revealed only in pieces. The rest is characterization and backstory galore. Every detail counts for something to make these characters and the story come to life and become real for us** **. Next, you will learn how the power-dampening spells do not affect Aithusa, and I tthink Kilgharrah's plan may also be revealed.**

 **Aithusa had never seen another dragon before, and she was too malformed to be of much use in knowing what a normal dragon looked like. Furthermore, we all know she was meant to be a good omen, so she has to realize her mistakes at some point, just like our main protagonist here, Kilgharrah. How could I** **not** **include her perspective at some point(s)?**

 **Obviously, I own nothing save for my original characters** **.**


	4. Chapter 4

IV.

 _What are we?_ Kilgharrah pondered Aithusa's reply, mulling it over inside his own heart. He decided to give the best answer he could, given his own confusion on the matter: he knew she wanted his friendship, and so…

 _Well, that depends,_ he waved a freshly prepared bargain in her face, _on whether or not you'll help me with something._ A moment later, Kilgharrah regretted it in spite of himself.

Upon receiving his answer, a wave of disappointment came to him from the depths of Aithusa's soul. For the first time, he felt a bit _cruel_ for asking a favor.

 _What do you need from me?_ Of course…everyone wanted something from her eventually. Morgana once asked Aithusa to forge a sword from her own breath so Mordred could use it for something "special", as she had put it. There was something she didn't tell her at the time, but Aithusa trusted her enough to comply. Next, it was the trolls. They wanted numerous things from her, none of which they had ever thanked her for.

So why did it pain her so much to hear this new dragon getting right down to business? It made sense that he would, though, given his current situation, so the dragoness asked him the obvious question for an obvious answer. After all, she may not be friendly to her warden, either, should they ever meet again. What the Great Dragon wanted, however, came as a surprise.

Shaking off his own regret, Kilgharrah explained his plan in great detail to the young dragoness. By contacting him, she had proven herself immune to the dungeons' dark enchantments. By roaming without restraints in the Mines of Torment, she proved her access to the prison. These factors combined to transform her into the perfect agent to carry out his devices for the time being.

Aithusa listened with shock to his (frankly) insane plan.

She was to connect herself to his power, and in turn she had to bring all three of the other Unfortunates—Buckbeak the Hippogriff, Fawkes the Phoenix, and Pleionis the Unicorn—into the connection as well. The next morning, when the Great Golden Dragon was to be executed, he would cast a powerful spell upon himself and by extension, the others. She was to be included, as well. At that point, the Unfortunates would have to use the ensuing confusion with their newfound abilities for escaping the Mines of Torment.

Because she will have betrayed the trolls, Aithusa had no choice but to leave as well. Because she and the others would need a powerful warlock to undo the spell (or, as some might see it, the curse), they all had no option but to follow Kilgharrah. She was to make all of this absolutely clear to them so they would not be overly confused when the time came.

As the dragoness hobbled away, Kilgharrah for once pondered his ability to back people into corners, trap them in situations where they could either do his bidding or suffer. Why he gained such a dangerous talent was no mystery to anyone, least of all to himself…the question he regarded with concern was how he had come to forget about it. How could one with such power forget its significance? Recalling the time when Merlin forgot the gravity of magic and used it in a moment of half-thinking boredom, Kilgharrah wondered with a touch of fear whether or not he had ever used his wits to manipulate without necessity…whether or not he would have realized it if he had was even more frightening to ask.

Once again pulling himself back to the moment at hand, Kilgharrah closed his eyes and grudgingly lay down upon the filthy, rotting pit floor. The trolls had to think he had been too weak and beaten to move much, if at all. All the while, he collected his thoughts and mentally rehearsed the words to the transformation spell. As a dragonling, it caused him much trouble.

At dawn the next day, it would set in motion the downfall of these terrorists, once and for all.

 **I own nothing from the Merlin and Harry Potter universes. Pleionis, by the way, is the ancestor of one of my oldest original characters** **J** **.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Now to meet the other poor, unfortunate souls (get out, Disney: not your fanfic).**

V.

Fawkes and the others listened intently to Aithusa as she conveyed her plan through rusted meshes of barbed metal. Being a bird, he was able to teach her how to turn her usual noises into avian words. By this means, the Unfortunates were fortunate enough to have known her: they asked her questions, and she replied to as many of them as her loyalties allowed.

She was a fine student and kind at heart, no doubt, yet she had chosen the path of darkness…or so the phoenix had thought until today. Perhaps an escape from the Mines of Torment could mean more to her than to him. Thinking back to his own past, Fawkes recalled seeing the portrait of a white dragoness in one of Dumbledore's favorite books. Curiously enough, the dear professor never actually read aloud from it to his pet as he did his other books. Instead, he simply gazed at the images fondly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. That book had been with him ever since his early childhood, so Fawkes was always respectful of it…now, the phoenix wished he had been more insistent on hearing its stories.

As soon as Aithusa completed her explanation, she waited expectantly (and rather anxiously) while Fawkes, Buckbeak, and Pleionis considered the plan's implicaations. Given the scenario, the phoenix saw no choice but to trust the Great Dragon's judgement.

He could not know what the others were thinking, but they both joined him in nodding to their warden. This could easily have been a trap, but something in her milky eyes told them it was not something of the Troll King's machinations. Having their consent now, she glanced about the mines before breathing into each of their respective faces, taking them all under the mantle of protection set up by the Great Dragon before her. Immediately, the three Unfortunates felt so much better than before: tey could once again share thoughts more efficiently than with words, and the effects of the trolls' curses faded into nothingness. They could not perform major spells of their own, but they felt an ancient, powerful sentience unlike any they had ever encountered before.

 _Be prepared for tomorrow's execution._ The Great Dragon spoke to them. The phoenix nodded, the hippogriff snapped his beak in confirmation, and the unicorn could not resist the urge to bow reverently at an invisible voice.

"OI! YOU LIZARD!" a series of obnoxious (and frankly, sickening) grunts echoed from afar. Fawkes could not quite understand what they meant, but he knew it was the way Aithusa was called away from them for morning duties. Scowling, the fallen dragoness squealed a response which he assumed meant she was on her way.

"Time to go." Aithusa chirped to her feathery mentor before rushing off as usual. The trio looked at one another, anticipation rising in their hearts. After a moment of seriousness, Buckbeak spoke up.

"I suppose we don't really _need_ breakfast, do we?" Always thinking of food, he was…

 **You'll eventually learn how Dumbledore's pet and Sirius Black's fellow escapee/Hagrid's former pet wound up in this situation…**

 **If this was too short for the wait, I truly am quite sorry :,(.**


	6. Chapter 6

VI.

Kilgharrah did not have long to wait until he sensed Aithusa instructing the others of their destinies for the next day. Luckily, they all agreed despite the risks. Joining the minds of Fawkes, Buckbeak, and Pleionis to his own via Aithusa's was…interesting, to say the least. While Aithusa's mind was inevitably different from the Great Dragon's, her presence felt easily familiar: the two were more alike than either had previously imagined, even for dragons! The rest, however…

Oh, how Kilgharrah longed to know more of their thoughts! Still, now was not the time. As much as he wanted to understand his newfound allies, the trolls were drawing near, and he could not allow them to sense his alertness. He needed them to be as overconfident as possible so their shock would be a sufficient distraction. Kilgharrah could smell the heathenish creatures, even over the disgusting odor of his accommodations.

The Great Dragon's anger at being locked up once more flared within him, stifled quickly by wisdom…this was good, he told himself. _My plan is in motion._ He could now hear Aithusa's footsteps, and the sound of a heavy contraption being pulled along on screeching wheels. Forcing his breath to remain slow and even, Kilgharrah heard the trolls leering at him from all directions.

"What did I tell you?" one of them snorted to those who weren't present the night before. Kilgharrah suppressed a twitch of repulsion when the snot landed on him from above. "He's totally helpless!"

"I don't know…" a younger troll squeaked his doubt, "I mean, what if he's acting or something?" This one was smart. A silence fell over his captors, their fear beginning to resurface as doubt sprouted. Perhaps this would not be so easy…

"Nah!" the first dared to spit on the dragon.

 _Now I know who to kill..._ the Great Dragon could not help thinking. At least the others expressed some shock at the act of hubris, stepping back in alarm. The spitter, as he should rightly be called, looked around at his peers and scoffed.

"Think about it, you nitwits." They relaxed at the disrespectful epithet, hanging on his next words. "If he wanted out, we'd all be dead already, don't you think? Unless, of course, he's not the big bad monster he's cracked up to be!" That last statement was made loudly in an attempt to gain a response from their helpless prisoner. Kilgharrah decided to indulge them a little, shifting his head and mustering a pitiful growl, trying and failing to lift himself from the pit's grimy floor. He could not resist gagging, however, when some of the filth made its way into his mouth! The trolls all laughed. If nothing else, Kilgharrah's unintentional snack had served to wash away all doubts:

According to them, he was as good as dead.

They lifted their prisoner using chains and pulleys, which dragged him onto a great wooden platform on wheels. The golden dragon allowed himself to be fastened tightly onto it, bound by cockatrice-hide ropes. Long ago, the world was dominated by those two-legged serpents hatched from the eggs of chickens. Vicious and greedy, those not turned to stone by their glances were painfully devoured.

A family of trolls had hidden from the cruel beings, and they begged the triple goddess for a solution. Taking pity on the trolls, she had them go separate ways and retrieve all the precious materials they could from whoever would take them in. Being a large family, they travelled far retrieved multitudes of every jewel and precious metal on Earth. From each material, the dragons were created. Overjoyed, the troll family came out of fighting to battle alongside their newly created allies. From then on, the cockatrices were obliterated, and dragons ruled for a time. Eventually, humanity would rise to power, but one thing remained certain: dragons and trolls fought together.

 _Until now_. Thought Kilgharrah as he was hauled away to his execution, Aithusa pulling him as though she were a pack mule. No alliance with their kindred could possibly save these trolls now. Not from the wrath of the Great Dragon…

 **I am SO sorry for making you wait so long! It was a combination of life, sickness, writer's block, and writing other things. Please accept my deepest apologies, and expect a new chapter soon. Never fear: you'll learn the risk of escaping soon enough ;D. Haha, I hope this is not too slow-going for any of you!**

 **BY THE WAY: I kind of want to take this opportunity to explore different kinds of mythological creatures. If you want me to incorporate your favorite mythological creature(s), just let me know and I'll try to work it in somehow ;D!**

 **I own neither Merlin nor Harry Potter.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I** _ **did**_ **promise to update soon ;D!**

VII.

Aithusa pulled Kilgharrah through what felt like an endless labyrinth of darkened tunnels, lit sparsely by salt lamps along the sides. At every turn there were numerous trolls, the vast majority of them sneering and spitting upon the golden Unfortunate. Few were the ones who now stared in awe and fear at their infamous prisoner, a niggling doubt worming its way into their minds…yet none of those loathsome creatures dared let it sink into their hearts. To think that if even one of them cared for what they were about to do—what they would soon bring unto themselves—Aithusa would have felt more pity. Yet she knew what she was about to do would endanger the lives of everyone present at the execution, if only for the fact that they would all be blamed for their escape from the Mines of Torment. Trolls in chaos were indeed an ugly sight to each other...

At long last, the dragoness reached the Platform of Misery. This vast stone platform was raised up higher for everyone to see. She had never seen it up close before, and never in use. For some reason, the Troll King would throw a fit whenever someone even mentioned it near her. All she knew was that "great suffering" had taken place on it, and it was now where the Great Dragon would pay for all his misdeeds. Looking at the platform, it felt as though she was standing before a demented altar—some perversion of a performer's stage. She had a feeling there was a darker side to the name of it than she was told. She allowed herself to be unharnessed—realizing how much of a saddlehorse she had been all this time. How could she have allowed this?

Hearing Kilgharrah's body being dragged off of the wagon, Aithusa dared turn her head to look at him. It took over a dozen troll guardsmen to carry him, and she could hear their muttered swearing as their muscles trembled with effort. Catching her eye, the dragon groaned and "struggled to escape". He was a good actor, she had to admit. She could not help but wonder what on Earth he did to deserve this severe punishment. Deciding all would be revealed in good time, she shrugged it off and prepared for what would happen next.

 _'We will wait until the last possible moment', Kilgharrah had said, 'when they are in the middle of delivering the fatal blow. Then, we must run. Destroy everything in your path, and meet at the exit, should we be separated.'_

Glancing to the far edge of the Platform, Aithusa noticed a cage in which Buckbeak, Pleionis, and Fawkes were forced to watch the death of their superior. Despite knowing their new forms could have certain advantages—mobility, for example—the dragoness had to stifle a sigh of relief. Together, they would have a greater chance of escaping: though rather dimwitted, troll warriors were a force to be reckoned with. Having dropped their "honored guest" on the platform, still bound by the cockatrice leather restraints, the Troll King was carried upon his throne to him (albeit a safe distance away—the coward). Clearing his throat, the cruel monarch began the speech which Aithusa had already overheard him rehearsing several times before.

"Great Golden Dragon," he began in a crude human dialect, the one language understood by most magical creatures, "you stand in trial today for being a force against our fair kingdom. Furthermore, you—"

"I would hardly call it a 'fair kingdom', Troll." Kilgharrah mustered the strength to taunt the king who would soon try to kill him. "And this is no trial." The immense chamber full of spectators went deathly silent, unnerved by his return to consciousness. What was he doing? His voice was silent, as though tired out and pathetically accepting fate as it was, but even so…The king sat in his throne, mouth opening and closing for a few seconds, until he found a proper response.

"You're right about that, you glorified lizard! Your crimes are too terrible for a proper trial. Now, since I'm so nice and all, I'll give you one last chance to say your final words." A cheer arose from the crowd, admiring their king's fearlessness and shameless disrespect for the Great Dragon. They were prepared to burn these moments into their memories for years to come, confident of being the victors of history from that day forth! Never mind the fact that this "great foe" was lying helplessly before them. A disgust towards them rose forth within Aithusa. How could they stand to live with themselves? She could hardly wait to leave them behind forever, to get rid of _their_ evil! If they were ever to abandon such gross vanity as that which was displayed here, it would have to start with punishment. This cancer must not spread any further than it has. And to think she had helped them…the weight of her crime crashed down upon her. She was no better than they were being…

Aithusa was snapped out of her reverie when the Troll King gave a shocked cry. "What would you want with her?!"

"I only wish that she approach me here…I need to see one of my kind again, just once before I die." The Troll King scrutinized the scene, apparently suspicious. At long last, though, he grunted approval. Aithusa, knowing exactly what was happening, approached her secret ally. This part of the plan they had discussed.

"Just don't try and get her to help you." The Troll King addressed Kilgharrah. "She belongs to my empire, and that's that. Don't listen to anything he says, dearie!" He always seemed to call her 'dearie' whenever he feared her leaving. Once, it may have worked on her, but this time she saw more clearly. No matter who the Great Dragon ever helped, she trusted _him_ now. Whatever he was doing, she had faith he would not let her down. Phase One: bring him to the Platform of Misery. Phase Two: explain why he put up such little resistance. Not all trolls were dull enough to believe he would give up so easily, after all. Phase Three would arrive soon enough. When she came in front of him, her glass-like eyes staring into his golden ones, Kilgharrah lifted his head and spoke aloud, his voice echoing throughout the room.

"With this, the last energy I possess, I heal the last dragoness alive." Murmurings could be heard around the platform. Could he do it? Is that why he didn't struggle? Why would he do that? All these questions and more floated up to the dragons' ears from below. The king leaned forward in his chair, the dung cushioning squishing audibly, the pestilence overshadowed by anticipation hanging in the air. Kilgharrah lifted his face up to hers, breathing out a simple healing spell.

Obviously, the spell failed. Her deformities were too severe for such an enchantment to work. As Kilgharrah dropped his head to the floor once more, Aithusa could have sworn she saw true regret in his eyes. They both knew the spell would fail, yet he seemed genuinely disappointed.

"Foolish lizard," the tyrant's hideous laughter broke the silence. This humiliation must have been amusing to him, "you just wasted your last breath." An executioner was already standing by, the legendary Sword of Leah glowing with tendrils of green light, draining the poor man as he held it. Imbued with the ability to cut through magic, it was the only known weapon capable of slaying a dragon. How the trolls ever gained it was a mystery to Kilgharrah, but he had no time to think of such a thing as the dark blade rose high into the air. The Great Dragon felt as though time slowed as he allowed the spell's magic to course through his entire being, the runes on his foot stabbing him with a burning pain as they worked their own magic, enhancing it to reach him and his allies.

A bright light flashed from the four captains and their former warden, followed by a shockwave. Though it lasted but a second at most, it was enough to blind and disorient the troll masses (knocking down some of them).

Ignoring whatever shock they might have had under normal circumstances, Buckbeak and the others charged out of their cage, whose lock he had cleverly broken while everyone's attention was on the two dragons. Why the trolls did not cast a spell on the lock was a question he would always wonder about from that point onwards.

In his peripheral vision, Buckbeak noticed the Great Dragon launching himself towards the Troll King, striking him down before the tyrant could even react. A golden blur, he hooked an arm around Aithusa to help her move quickly. She must have been in a great deal of pain right about then. The five met while running to the edge of the platform.

"Over them!" he heard the Great Dragon shout behind him. Was he crazy? They could no longer fly, even if they wanted to. Then again…

Buckbeak saw Pleionis jump off the Platform of Misery, trotting across the veritable sea of trolls just beginning to regain consciousness. He was using their thick heads like stepping stones in a gurgling stream. Maintaining his speed, the former hippogriff followed suit along with Fawkes. Beside them, the Great Dragon surpassed him with relative ease, every movement coordinated perfectly. So, he _has_ done this before…

Soon, they had all passed on top of the crowd, leaving many unconscious trolls in their wake. It was a veritable training run, for even Aithusa had managed to master her new form. She pretended not to be fazed by the sudden changes, but everyone saw her pained grimace no matter how often she tried to wipe it away from their sight. There was no time to help her, though, as the guardsmen had already begun pursuing them viciously. Understanding that running and fighting were two separate skillsets, they followed the Great Dragon's plan and kept running. As much as they all wanted to, they understood now was not yet time for battling the enemy, least of all in the latter's own territory. Learning how to dodge weapons and deadly traps along the way, they finally made it out into open air, where all five could disappear into the trees.

 **This chapter was originally going to be split into multiple, but I decided that I have kept you all waiting long enough for the "big escape" scene, and you've all been very patient with my irregular updates** **. In writing the transformation part, I immediately thought of either a flash-bang or lightning. Hopefully, it was not too clichéd, but do not worry: this transformation, though rather central, is not permanent ;)!**

 **NEW POLL ALERT: There is now a poll on my profile page about what fandom(s) to write about next. Chances are, I will do all of them in good time, but I just wanted to see which of them people are most excited about** **.**

 **A special thanks to those who followed/favorited this story!**

 **This being a fanfiction, I do not own Merlin, Harry Potter, or even Shannara (which is where the Sword of Leah is from).**


	8. Chapter 8

**I have bad news, everyone…the school year is nearly upon us.**

 **This chapter in particular was a challenge, so I apologize if it isn't as good as the others…**

VIII.

After finally bursting into the open world, the newly altered quintet thanked their good fortune: nobody was outside the Mines, for the Great Dragon's execution was an occasion attended by all members of the troll terrorist group. There was not much to destroy inside the mountain, but underneath the blood-red dawn, trees surrounding the exit gave Fawkes an idea to prevent being followed.

"Could we potentially knock over that tree, and burn it?" Fawkes pointed experimentally to a moderately sized aspen nearby.

"It would be fitting." Kilgharrah mused about the symbolic meaning of the aspen before adding, matter-of-factly, "Only if we work together and the ground is soft. Even then, I highly doubt we could manage it in time. Try blocking the cave mouth with the branches instead."

"Whatever we do, we should do it quickly." Buckbeak noted, imagining the ruckus within the underground corridors.

"Agreed." Pleionis moved immediately to the aspen. Noting how moist the wood of it was, they immediately knew fire would not be their tool. Wondering how soon the trolls' footsteps would be echoing within the mountain's forested base, the five gathered as many of the knotted branches as they could.

Pleionis, glancing at his companions, could not help noticing the frustrated expressions on their faces. Even Kilgharrah, who apparently performed this transformative enchantment in his youth, bore a marked scowl on his new human features. It felt strange, seeing everyone in such a form: Kilgharrah, for example. His eyes were still golden, but his scales were changed into a suit of actual golden armor! His teeth, when he showed them, were the same ivory color as his spikes as a dragon. He was somehow armed with sharp weapons, the blades ivory and the hilts golden. His sword had a piece of amber in its pommel. Looking around, Pleionis realized every one of his friends' features made it into their human forms in a like manner. For example, wings became capes, claws and talons turned into blades, and scales became armor for those who had them. Aithusa's looked rather flimsy.

He knew she was malnutritioned on top of her deformed structure—those trolls really were abominations, as was the savage man who imprisoned her so long ago. The extent of her poor health never truly struck the former unicorn until seeing her looking so…vulnerable...

 _It must be difficult for them not to fly anymore._ Pleionis tried sympathizing with them, to keep his mind off of Aithusa's condition. He had always heard flying was a wondrous ability, so he imagined that was why the other four were put off by the labor. Indeed, this would not have been needed if they could all fly away to safety.

Soon, he and the others began to fear stopping was a grave mistake, for even a combined effort was not faster than the approaching threat. Just as the first troll guardsman came within earshot, however, Buckbeak noticed the stones and dirt overhead were loose. Heart pounding silently, Pleionis helped the others climb up and knocked away the moist earth with his hammer (which, he assumed, was the altered function of hooves).

"Wait!" Buckbeak stopped his own efforts and moved away from the group. "I have an idea!" Hopping down, he landed squarely in the entrance to the Mines.

"What is he doing?" Fawkes whispered. Frankly, Pleionis had the same question. "I'll go help him." Just as the scholar was about to go after his old friend, Kilgharrah stopped him by grabbing hold of his fiery cape.

"If the hippogriff has a plan, we cannot interfere with it." All of them crouched together, weapons at the ready in case they had to fight. Buckbeak straightened his back down below, as everyone wondered what he would do next…

 **Please forgive the cliffhanger XD.**

 **I wanted to try and bring some of Pleionis's thoughts into the story, since (although an OC) he is still part of the story. You will see more of Kilgharrah's point of view later on, not to mention the other characters.**

 **Someone (a guest) commented, asking what was meant when noting that Kilgharrah had done this before: well, I figured that if someone lived for many centuries, that was a lot of time to make mistakes, and even the Great Dragon was young once upon a time** **…so, you'll just have to learn more when the other characters do ;)! I intend to have some relationship-building scenes between all characters. They have to get to know each other outside a prison environment, after all!**

 **Soon, we'll all learn the next step in Kilgharrah's plan. The human transformation was mostly to empty out the Mines of Torment, after all. Now, they must undo it. Things will happen along the way, giving us an adventure! This may become a series because of that…**

 **I do not own Merlin or Harry Potter, and I'm not wealthy enough to buy them.**


	9. Chapter 9

IX.

Buckbeak straightened his posture, readying himself for something insane. As fifteen troll guardsmen approached, the former hippogriff drew his weapons—a silver dagger and a steel hammer with diamond-studded handles—and held them out on either side of himself at arm's length. The trolls bared their teeth at him, ready for a battle. Buckbeak steeled his resolve, copper eyes glinting and heart beating inside his chest as he…dropped the weapons and made a sign of surrender.

Confused, the pursuers halted in their tracks, maintaining their weapons at the ready.

"Oi," one of them called out to him, "just what do you think you're doing?"

Kilgharrah recognized the speaker as the young one who doubted the Great Dragon's helplessness earlier on. Watching intently, Kilgharrah thought about what the hippogriff would say next. One false step, and he would be down one ally. The others hiding above the cave entrance kept glancing to their newfound leader, waiting for a signal to go help the hippogriff…but they would be disappointed.

The only one who could know when help was needed was Buckbeak himself: Kilgharrah had no way of knowing how far this plan of his would go before intervention would be welcome, and the last thing they needed was to get in each other's way! To Kilgharrah's wary amusement, Buckbeak flourished his silver and white cape, brown speckles appearing like mud stains, and bowed deeply to the befuddled audience before him.

"I'm surrendering," Buckbeak announced openly, "and offering you my service." While Pleionis, Aithusa, and Fawkes' eyes widened, Kilgharrah's narrowed into golden slits. Just what was he playing at? Hearing the trolls beneath him murmur amongst themselves, he began to understand the idea: make the trolls believe they had a spy in enemy ranks, so they would stop the pursuit.

"What makes you think we'd believe that pile of rubbish?!" The young troll responded testily, snorting in suspicion. "What's in it for you, eh?"

"A reasonable question, from an intelligent young warrior such as yourself." Buckbeak buttered up the creature's natural vanity: a crafty move, if not a little overdone. "Allow me to answer such as would please you, my liege. Behold! The Great Dragon has turned me into a measly human. I cannot fly, I cannot use my claws, and I have no feathers on my body." Placing a scowl in his tone, he spread his cape as if he still had wings, emphasizing his point. "I have to rely on clothing and tools. I cannot even speak my own language anymore!" Buckbeak tried squawking and chirping, but to no avail. A snicker rose from the troll guardsmen.

"So…what you're saying is…" one could almost hear the young troll's head straining to put together the escaped captive's speech, "you…you want revenge!"

"And a cure." A still deeper bow from the cunning hippogriff, "If I could but speak to your king-"

"The king is dead." The troll grunted. "Your _friend_ made sure of that, remember?" Kilgharrah could not help smirking at the mention of his triumph.

"Ah, yes. So, to whom do I pay an act of homage now?" At Buckbeak's seemingly innocent question, the trolls began squabbling, the realization dawning on them that a new king had to be named. Every one of them wanted the title, regardless of merit for the power. "Perhaps I ought to find out at my next report?"

"Wait, bird!" The young troll snapped attention back to the issue at hand, before Buckbeak could leave them to their power-struggles. A visible frown crossed his features at being called a bird. "Two of us will follow you, to make sure you don't betray us."

 _This one is clever. Too much so to be disregarded like the others._ Kilgharrah frowned. What if _he_ became the new ruler of the terrorists? _All the more reason for us to defeat them._

Buckbeak hesitated for a moment before agreeing to those terms. "However," he added, "perhaps you ought to follow after several days: I cannot be suspected of bringing company, after all." He used his most charming voice, hoping they would comply with a comfortable span of time. The young troll considered.

"Fine. We'll give you three days…but leave a trail! If you don't, we'll just have to hunt you down, won't we?" The other trolls chuckled their agreement. Obviously, they enjoyed the thought of having their own little pawn. "As for that cure you mentioned, we'll give it to you—AFTER you give us back your little gaggle of allies."

Kilgharrah rolled his eyes: not even _they_ could undo the spell he cast. Troll magic, no matter how powerful, would not suffice. Only one warlock alive could ever do that.

Buckbeak stood in place and watched the trolls leave. Only after their shadows were swallowed in the tunnels and the pounding of their feet disappeared in favor of the rustling of wind through the leaves did he move to pick up his weapons and rejoin his friends, who all rose out of hiding. Aithusa beamed at him, Pleionis was dumbstruck, and Fawkes was attempting not to snicker at what just transpired. One person, however, merely stood with his arms folded and his chin lifted, looking very much like a parent who'd caught his child doing something sneaky.

"That was very cunning of you, hippogriff," said Kilgharrah, "but I do hope you realize that I will be watching you carefully from now on." The sun had fully risen already, reflecting off of Kilgharrah's armor and hair. Altogether, it gave him an almost godlike appearance, making Buckbeak feel like maybe the dragon-man could actually see his every move.

"Yes, Great Dragon." Buckbeak lowered his gaze, intimidated by the thought of being constantly observed, yet knowing he should have nothing to fear as long as he remained faithful.

"Good. Now that we all understand one another, we must be leaving. We have a long journey before we reach Camelot." Kilgharrah led them all into the forests, heading eastward, towards Camelot. Buckbeak trailed behind, wracking his brain for ways to be an effective double-agent. Before entering the threshold of the woods, Fawkes dropped back to his old friend's side.

"So," Fawkes whispered to Buckbeak, "how does it feel to be pulling a Snape in the past?"

"I'll let you know in a few days." Buckbeak replied, only to then hear his own stomach growling. "In the meantime…" he pulled out his dagger. "How does one hunt with this thing?"

"Better yet," Fawkes gawked at a piece of charcoal in one of two pouches on his belt, "how does one make fire with this?"

 **First of all, I want to thank all of you readers for being patient about my long and irregular breaks between uploads. You people really deserve better, and I actually can't make many excuses (especially ones you haven't already heard), so it honestly means a lot to me that you'd all stay for the story** **!**

 **Secondly, I believe a bit of a confession is in order…I…I am NOT a part of every fandom I write. There! I said—I mean, I TYPED IT! I might know a lot about Harry Potter, and I feel greatly attached to some of the characters, but I actually try not to get too involved with it myself :/. What can I say? I see a good story idea, I know what to do with it, I think I can pull it off, and I ROLL with it XD. This originally started off as exclusively Merlin, but Buckbeak and Fawkes just popped up in it, and I couldn't resist Pleionis (my OC based off of my OC in an OS of mine :P). According to the description, Dumbledore might show up at some point…so…yep…I say this because someone asked me to join a Harry Potter roleplay, and—given this is my first and (so far) only fanfiction—I can understand how people would think I'm a fan XD.**

 **I might be writing an Undertale fanfiction pretty soon, though…but the OC in it was born to the Creepypasta universe, so…fan of Undertale, not of Creepypasta ;P.**

 **As I said, this might turn into a series, so I might as well do some other stuff on the side** **.**

 **Thirdly: The POLL is still up on my profile, but I might just close it soon if no one else votes. Thank you, though, to my one-and-only voter ;D!**

 **Finally…I do NOT own Merlin, and I do NOT own Harry Potter :P!**


	10. Chapter 10

X.

Making his way through the forest, Kilgharrah watched his step so as not to stumble over roots and pebbles. Pleionis followed behind him, constantly hovering by Aithusa's side. He seemed to have little trouble, although the former unicorn did occasionally have to regain his balance. Because his hooves were cloven, his white boots had slight, broad heels, whilst everyone else in the company had spurs in place of claws and talons. Rather than a horn, Pleionis now carried a long spear, its handle a tight, pearlescent spiral. His white hair was straight, and slightly shaggy. A pure white hammer hung from his waist.

Aithusa, sadly, did not look very good as she ambled stiffly along: her long, white hair was wispy, and the delicate armor she wore looked very thin. Kilgharrah felt like a single touch could seriously dent the white gold plating. Her cheeks had a rosy element to them, as did the inside of her cape, but even then it seemed like any color—even on her white raiment—was muted and dull. Furthermore, Aithusa's aquamarine eyes were still as glassy as ever. Come to think of it, she looked blind, but he dared not ask if she could see at all (lest he should be wrong). The most unwise thing anyone could do was to agitate a female dragon, at least in _his_ knowledge. Besides, she seemed fully aware of her surroundings; however, the fact that she was so obviously in pain pierced Kilgharrah's very heart.

"Are we going to be stopping to rest soon, Great Dragon?" Pleionis asked him. Glancing over his shoulder, Kilgharrah noticed it was not a complaint. Indeed, the one who asked was still moving energetically: it was the one next to him who needed rest. Aithusa must have realized Pleionis' intention for asking: she straightened her back and looked at Kilgharrah questioningly.

 _She wants to appear strong,_ he mused, _but knows her pain is too great for her to continue for much longer._ "We will reach a resting point soon." The golden leader assured them. "I know of a place where we can gather food and water." Having flown above Albion for many years, Kilgharrah knew the land almost like the back of his foot… _Perhaps that is a bad comparison,_ he thought, looking at his new hand. _Oh, well._

"Thank you, Great Dragon." Pleionis bowed as best as he could, managing to remain on two feet.

"You may call me Kilgharrah from now on, Pleionis." As he spoke, Kilgharrah moved back and supported Aithusa on her right side, using his shoulders to hold her arm. Seeing this example, Pleionis followed suit on her left. The former dragoness waved the latter off, but even so she gave him a grateful smile. Indeed, it seemed she only needed one person to assist her at the moment. "By the way," the ancient being glanced around, wondering where two members of the group were, "where are the phoenix and the hippogriff?"

"Oh, do you mean Fawkes and Buckbeak?"

"No," Kilgharrah deadpanned, "the _other_ phoenix- and hippogriff-turned-human." Aithusa gave him a slight shove for teasing her friend in such a manner, causing them both to stumble. He could not help chuckling, though, and Pleionis took no offense. Just then, they all heard a great shaking of leaves and several branches snapping. Buckbeak and Fawkes appeared, dirt staining their tunics and twigs caught in their capes.

"We tried hunting." Fawkes explained, rather embarrassed, and started pulling the twigs out of his yellow shirt. Kilgharrah lifted an eyebrow quizzically.

"And how did that turn out for you?" he asked the two. As a reply, Buckbeak pulled one arm from behind his back and lifted a squirrel up into the air, beaming triumphantly. "Impressive." he said genuinely, "Next time, however, I expect you to let the rest of us know when you're leaving." Kilgharrah turned, motioning for them to follow. "After all," he explained, "we wouldn't want anyone to be separated, would we?"

"No, headmaster." The former phoenix responded, absently checking his red cape for any tears.

"Did you just call me 'headmaster'?" Kilgharrah stopped in his tracks for a moment. He was rather surprised at the odd title. _Why would he use such a term?_ He wondered.

"Nothing, sir." Fawkes said, a little quickly. "A mere force of habit. I used to live near a school, you see, and I just…"

"…Equated me to the highest authority?" he finished helpfully. "You were very closely acquainted with the headmaster, weren't you?" Fawkes nodded.

"Yes…I was." He looked away so Kilgharrah would not see him blink away the tears in his coal-black eyes as he thought of his owner's tragic ending.

"In that case," Kilgharrah's voice was quiet and understanding, "I'm sorry for your loss." He had heard Fawkes' tone often enough to know what it meant. Obviously, someone very dear to him had passed away, and the memories were still fresh in his mind. Curiosity was a difficult thing to overcome, but it was stifled out of consideration for Fawkes. Kilgharrah addressed the whole group: "We should reach the Lake of Avalon soon enough, say, nightfall. Midnight, at the latest."

"That's not directly on the way to Camelot. Why are we stopping there?" Buckbeak wondered.

"There is something we must do there." Kilgharrah answered simply. Truth be told, he wanted to do something very risky. There was a problem Merlin could _not_ help them with…and it had to do with Aithusa and her destiny.

 **Ah, the Lake of Avalon: where most important things seemed to happen in the Merlin universe.**

 **Now we seem to be getting into a somewhat lighter tone. I hope you don't mind** **. After all, we need some relief,** _ **non?**_

 **Guess what!**

 **I HAVE BEGUN TO WRITE ANOTHER STORY, TO BE POSTED ON FRIDAY. This one is actually a collaboration with Venus Luxia and AlphonseLover13! It would mean very much to me if you would all read it, and I'm certain they would appreciate it, as well** **. It'll be great fun to see where this new story goes, combining all of our different writing styles and ideas. The chapters will be posted as part of my profile, but it would be great if you could look at their other stories, too ;D. I am telling you it will be posted on Friday, and gall-darnit, it will! Only the best for our readers!**

 **I do not own Merlin, nor do I own Harry Potter (if I did, more characters would be alive XP).**


	11. Chapter 11

**Concerning the speed of this update…never let it be said that I don't have my moments XD.**

 **Remember to keep watch for that NEW STORY I told you about last time ;). THIS FRIDAY, it will be officially posted ;D!**

XI.

After what seemed like a hundred years to the quintet, they could see the faint shimmering of water beyond the dense forestry. The woods were silent, save for the rustle of crisp leaves in the cool breeze. The air became cold, as a result of the lake being so near. This came as a great relief to everyone, most of all Aithusa. She was in such tremendous pain that she had to succumb to it and let her friends take turns bearing her in their arms. As the moon rose higher, she noticed Kilgharrah's eyes becoming more of an amber in hue. His skin and armor took on a darker color, too, which made her wonder if _she_ was supposed to change color at night. After all, her growth was rather…interfered with. Then again, Kilgharrah was male, and she was female. Maybe only males did that. What if it had to do with age? At any rate, weren't all of their magical qualities taken away? Without thinking very much, she opened her mouth to ask him, once his turn came to carry her. To her everlasting dismay, all that came out was a most unearthly whine. All present looked at her, eyes wide. She herself was caught off guard!

 _I didn't think human beings could even make that sound._ She thought as she clamped her mouth shut. Kilgharrah looked at her understandingly as he and the others kept walking.

"Did you wish to ask me something, Aithusa?" he spoke kindly, ready to answer whatever she wanted him to. She smiled at him happily and nodded.

Aithusa pointed to him, then back at herself, trying not to move her arm too much. It was her spine that pained her the most, so she was careful to focus her movement in her wrist and fingers. Kilgharrah pressed his lips together, apparently trying to decipher what she could mean. She could almost see the wheels turning in his mind through his expression.

"I…don't quite understand. Perhaps be a little more specific?"

Thinking for a moment, Aithusa pointed directly at her eyes.

"Your eyes…" he followed along.

Blinking in affirmative, she pointed up at his eyes. All at once, a wave of understanding came into them as he realized what she was trying to ask.

"My eyes. You want to know why they change color." Apparently, the other members of their company heard him: Fawkes matched his pace with Kilgharrah's, curiosity in his eyes.

"Yes, I was wondering the exact same thing." The scholar stated eagerly. "From what I've read—or at least, heard—a dragon's colors only change according to health." He looked at Aithusa, who was listening intently. "That is why yours may not be quite as vibrant as they might have been when you hatched, Aithusa: ever since you joined the trolls, they haven't allowed you enough rest, which affected your physical state."

 _I never slept much with Morgana, either._ She mused. _The nightmares haunted us both…_ Looking down at herself, she noticed how lifeless the shades of white on her simple gown seemed compared to those of Pleionis, whose color scheme was similar. She always figured it had something to do with health, but if that was the case…it still didn't explain why Kilgharrah's were changing from golden to brown and amber after sundown. Aithusa looked up at the one holding her and tilted her head onto his shoulder inquiringly. _Where's the rest of the answer?_

"Well, if you must know," Kilgharrah looked straight ahead, "the story of my hues is a long one, and rather humiliating, in a way. Still," he peered at her and Fawkes out of the corner of his eyes, which had by now become almost like campfires in his irises, "it might do us all some good if I were to share it aloud at some point." At last, they exited the tree-filled wilderness and stepped upon the shores of Avalon. "We'll camp here for the night."

"But, Kilgharrah," Pleionis spoke up, subconsciously raising an index finger, "what if the Sidhe do not want us here?"

"I have ways of persuading them." Kilgharrah narrowed his eyes ominously. "But first, we must all feel secure in our position. If they sense any sort of anxiety or uncertainty, the Sidhe will believe us to be weak, and all hope of triumph will be lost to us."

This was a serious decision, Aithusa realized. Morgana had told her of the Sidhe: ruthless, immortal, living between the realms of Life and Death and answering to no one. Agreeing to stay here—even for a single night—was riskier than escaping the Mines of Torment. Fawkes, Pleionis, and Buckbeak all took deep breaths and nodded, straightening their backs and sealing yet another leap of faith. Aithusa looked up at Kilgharrah and nodded, a fiery excitement igniting inside of her. The thought of danger somehow drove her to this instead of fear, and she could see by a slight curve of his lips that he felt the same way. The steel in his eyes, though, made her wonder if there was something else behind his reason for staying. Could he be hiding something from her…from all of them? She pushed the doubt from her mind. She could not doubt him at this point. Trust may have brought her pain in the past, but he was not like Morgana and the Troll King: it was just like when Buckbeak decided to play the double-agent outside the Mines. If he had a plan in place, she could not mess it up by questioning his judgement. Still, though…she put a hand on his shoulder, frowning up at him.

"I knew you would notice." Kilgharrah sighed heavily, knowing exactly what Aithusa was thinking. "Yes, there is another reason for staying here than mere rest." Aithusa raised her eyebrows.

Nobody had ever admitted having an ulterior motive to her before. That alone put her at ease.

"I'm afraid you'll simply have to trust me, Aithusa…as difficult as it may seem." He sounded like a friend…not a pet owner, and definitely not like a slave master. Placing her faith in Kilgharrah, Aithusa smiled and nodded. "Pleionis," Kilgharrah passed her over to the former unicorn, who held her tenderly, his kind nature making her feel happy and light, "you find a place for us to sleep, then gather firewood with Fawkes. Buckbeak," the former hippogriff snapped to attention, "it would be most helpful if you could build us a shelter. I will go speak with the Sidhe." Everyone nodded, and was about to go off to their respective tasks, when Aithusa reached out a halting arm—too occupied with wanting to be helpful to feel discomfort.

She looked at Kilgharrah, silently imploring for a purpose. Maybe she could keep watch for danger? Who knows if she could walk on her own again and gather soft moss for bedding? She could also prepare the squirrel Buckbeak had caught for cooking…for whatever reason t _hat_ needed to be done. That was it! She had seen Morgana do it for herself while living in that hovel, after all. Yes, that was what they needed! Instead, she was sorely disappointed when he shook his head and waved her mute plea out of the night air, as though it were a silly fly hovering near everyone's food that needed to be shot down.

"The best way for you to be helpful at the moment…is to sleep, Aithusa." Everyone agreed (except the one in question), and she was carried off to a patch of ground where tree roots formed perfectly-sized cradles for everyone.

"Trust us, Aithusa." Pleionis told her gently as he set her down. "Besides," he said pointedly, "Buckbeak will be keeping an eye on everything around here." By her left side, Buckbeak smiled down at her, his copper eyes shining like two shields in the starlight.

"And don't worry about the squirrel." He seemed to read her mind, producing the catch of the day from his silver belt. "I can figure it out eventually. For now, you need to recover your strength!"

Resigning herself to her fate, Aithusa sighed and nodded meekly, covering herself with her cape as if it was a bedsheet…a bedsheet attached to her shoulders. According to Kilgharrah, they _could_ all remove their clothing items, so long as they put them on again before transforming back in Camelot, but it would simply feel awkward, tearing off what used to be their wings.

"Good luck, my friend." She heard Pleionis whisper to the first-time chef before he ran off to join Fawkes.

"Now…how to make a tent…" the last thing Aithusa heard before sleep took hold of her was Buckbeak, mumbling instructions to himself in a dialect that was very unlike his own.

 **Whoever left the latest Guest review, thank you very much for your feedback :D. I hope you continue to enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it ;D!**

 **As you can see, I'm hinting at eventually showing/explaining why Fawkes and Buckbeak are even** _ **there**_ **in the first place, so stay tuned ;).**

 **I own neither Merlin nor Harry Potter (hence, the name FANfiction) XP.**

 **Have I used that disclaimer before? It feels familiar…oh, well. You get the point, after all XD.**


	12. Chapter 12

**I own neither Merlin nor Harry Potter…If I did this would be canon, now wouldn't it ;P?**

XII.

As the stars twinkled above him in silence, Kilgharrah moved farther from the group's campsite until he was out of earshot. He stood at the shore's edge, keeping a sharp eye out for any "fireflies" above the water. From afar, the Sidhe looked like miniscule specks of light; however, only a fool would ever forget the tremendous power within those tiny, immortal frames. While he surveyed the lake, Kilgharrah had a bit of time for personal reflection. The others wanted to know why he changed colors at night—indeed, he was already fully shifted into a deep tan skin tone, and his armor, hair, and cape were now an earthy brown. He had promised to tell them, but he felt uneasy. It was always a memory that had him rather embarrassed.

 _Perhaps a little humiliation would do me good._ It had been so long since he had ever been proven wrong about _anything_ : hundreds of years, in fact…Of course, he was fairly certain the others had their secrets, as well. Buckbeak and Fawkes, for instance. Those two must have known each other for a long time—they were always conversing—but something about them struck Kilgharrah as peculiar. It may not be anything malicious, but he was curious to know…Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Kilgharrah refocused on the task at hand.

The Lake of Avalon was beautiful at night, with moonlight dripping across every ripple and every crest as it appeared. Looking up to the heavens, one could see that it was among those rare nights when not a single cloud tainted the blanket of sky above the Earth. Though Kilgharrah could not see a single trace of the Sidhe, he knew better than to ignore courtesy by not requesting what he needed: permission to spend the night…as well as something else.

In the center of the lake stood the Isle of the Blessed, where ancient temples rested in ruins, the structures crumbling ever so slowly as the years passed since Uther Pendragon's war against the old religion. Once home to the high priestesses, the island now harbored very little in terms of life: Wyverns lived there now, and many tragedies had taken place. The latest of these was when a small boat came through the mist, carrying the good King Arthur, a sword wounding him. His noble heart was still, and his fair skin was cold to the touch. The warlock, Emrys, had not needed much energy to propel the ferry to the shrouded island, but even so a cloud of grief and love surrounded Arthur Pendragon. His grief cried out, and his love beckoned to her—the Lady of the Lake.

Rising out of the waters of Avalon, the lady—once known as Freya—housed the fallen king inside those old walls. The king's wounds were treated with the water that dripped from the end of his dragon-born sword, Excalibur, which Emrys had returned to the lake under her protection. She knew that one day, Arthur would rise, and his coming was to bring great joy to her beloved. Just before dawn of each day, she would recede into the Lake of Avalon, never to be seen by the new Pendragon's eyes.

The Wyverns did not touch him, for they sensed protective enchantments around the king. Instead, they stalked him from a distance as he would explore his home for the time being. Arthur Pendragon rose every day to search for anything: a way off the island, the voice he heard singing to him at night, the one who healed his wounds, _anyone_ who could help him.

"Merlin?" Arthur called into the foggy air for the about the hundredth time that day. "Merlin!" Again, he was greeted with silence. "Anyone?" Again, not a sound answered his calls. _That's it._ He decided he had had enough. How long has he been in these ruins, anyhow? "I demand that someone answer me, face to face."

The monarch could have sworn he heard the Wyverns laughing at him.

 _Can Wyverns even laugh?_ He wondered. "Show yourself, whoever you might be—so says the king!"

There were the Wyverns…again.

"Shut up." He muttered at them, "It was worth a shot." Making his way to the shore, Arthur Pendragon splashed some of the water onto his face. Looking at his reflection, he frowned at his bare chin. He wanted to use the growth of a beard as a time reference, but every time his stubble grew long enough, he woke up to find himself clean-shaven again. "I wonder why I never wake up in time to stop them." He said to no one in particular.

 _Of course, it must be some sort of magic._ Arthur reasoned. _But how do they do it? How do they make me sleep that deeply?_

 _Merlin would probably know._ His mind replied to its own question—which, frankly, disturbed him. Sighing in resignation, he played along with his fading sanity.

 _And if he didn't?_

 _Then Guinevere would help him figure it out._ Arthur sighed again at the thought of his queen, this time with grief. How was she faring?

 _She probably thinks you're dead._

"Shut up." Arthur said aloud. Honestly, his mind was not a very helpful companion.

 _Clotpole._ Arthur couldn't help smiling ruefully at his best friend's trademark insult, one that was nearly as old as their friendship. How did Merlin even come up with that? He was always so goofy…until he wasn't…

 _Maybe it's the water!_ Of course: why didn't he think of it before? Every morning he woke up to find a cup of water at his bedside, and every morning he drank it. It was clean and refreshing, after all…but what if that was actually some sort of sleeping potion? All he had to do was resist drinking the water. If he was right, he will have gotten one step closer to finding a solution to his captivity; if he was wrong, all he had to sacrifice to find out was one drink of water (which he was surrounded by). _I'll have to find out tomorrow_ , he decided.

Suddenly, a face appeared in the lake water before him. It was a young woman, with dark hair and pale skin. Arthur was dumbfounded as she spoke.

"It is time for you to sleep, Arthur Pendragon" she said gently. "You have a special day ahead of you tomorrow." Her voice was quiet, yet clear, just like the waters of Avalon. The Once and Future King closed his mouth and, shaking his head, made doubly sure he was not hallucinating. Surely enough, the lady was there. Who was she? "Please, go to sleep now, Pendragon" she repeated. Her image began to fade.

"Wait!" Arthur called her, and she looked at him expectantly, clearly awaiting what he would say to her. "Who are you?"

"I am Freya," she answered him, "the Lady of the Lake."

"Are you the one who's kept me alive all this time?" Arthur decided to ask that before he would ask what she intended by keeping him prisoner on a deserted island.

She smiled and nodded. "Yes," she said, "after Merlin sent you here."

"Merlin?" Arthur was shocked: yes, Merlin was actually a supremely powerful warlock who had been hiding around under his nose for several years, but Merlin had also told Arthur he used his powers to protect him, so… "Why would he—?"

"The Lake of Avalon is where Merlin brings the people he loves to rest" the lady—Freya—explained to the confused noble. "It was his grief which stopped him from setting your boat aflame."

"So…does he know I'm still alive?" Arthur felt a glimmer of hope, his suspicions gone for the moment. "Is he here?" Freya shook her head. No, he wasn't there. _Of course not, you idiot,_ Arthur berated himself, _he 'put you to rest' after you passed out on that dragon._ A thought occurred to him. "What about the dragon we rode in on?"

"Some rest would do you well" she ignored his question, much to the king's dismay. "You have a long journey ahead of you." Freya's image began fading again.

"Wait, don't go yet!" Arthur pleaded. "What must I do?"

"You will go home soon, to Camelot" Freya smiled at him sadly "Please say 'hello' to Merlin for me." Before she could leave for good this time, Arthur asked a question out of curiosity.

"How do you know Merlin in the first place? I thought all his deeds were secret."

"Many of them were," she agreed, "but he was always well-known in the world of magic, even before his birth." While Arthur pondered this about his manservant, Freya continued, "I met him during the time of Uther Pendragon, while you were still prince of Camelot. He was the only man who ever cared for me since my family passed away." Here she paused, gazing up at Arthur intently, "It was the wound you inflicted that caused my death…and his love which brought me life."

Arthur was shocked. What wound? He never remembered killing an innocent woman, especially not one who knew Merlin. Nonetheless, he felt that it was true. Before he could apologize profoundly, she stopped him with a smile—this one bright and full of gratitude.

"Together, you liberated me from my curse. With my last breath, I promised to repay Merlin for all he had done for me: because he loved me, showed me every kindness, and made me feel human again, I owe him so much more than my physical life."

"Is…that why you're here?" Arthur inquired. Perhaps he _would_ find out why she kept him here all this time, only to send him back to Camelot.

"And why I tended to your wounds." Freya nodded, "The hospitality he showed me was the same I showed you. I left you water at night and kept you safe from any beasts that might have harmed you, just as he brought me nourishment and protected me."

Although Arthur seriously doubted Merlin kept hidden from her or charmed her to sleep with enchanted water, he saw the point, and bowed in thanks.

"Now…" the Lady of the Lake tilted her head towards whence Arthur came.

"I should go to sleep?"

"Tomorrow at dawn, in this same location," she instructed him, "a ferry will be waiting for you." Arthur nodded and left, happy to have finally gotten some answers to the many questions plaguing him for the moment.

 _And tomorrow,_ he thought, a smile emerging until it grew into a beaming grin, _I set off for home._

That night, as he slept, King Arthur dreamed of Camelot.

 **Forgive me for how cliché this chapter is: I was originally going to have a more sudden introduction of King Arthur into the storyline, but that idea was also cliché, so I decided to at least give you a** _ **scene**_ **explaining how Arthur survived. That, and I felt like involving Freya for a short while (a.k.a. The Lady of the Lake) :P.**

 **So, you know how it says Arthur** _ **dreamed**_ **of Camelot? Well, I actually wrote a dream for him! Sadly, though its method of foreshadowing was fitting, the dream was unnecessary (and I feel like that mechanic is often overused), so I cut it out completely as soon as I finished writing it in.**

 **If you're at least curious as to what exactly his dream was of, I believe I may be posting it in a oneshot…as a matter of fact, I might make a collection of dream oneshots from THIS story** **. The title is— get ready for this—**

" **Dreams".**

 **Genius, right XP? Hahahaha…I'm a bit tired right now…but I believe it has potential, especially once I hone my dream-writing skills.**

 **Oh, by the way…If you have yet to do so, please take a look at** _ **The Adventures of R.E.S.: A Trip Through Reality**_ **. If you like it, you can also explore the writings of Venus Luxia and AlphonseLover13, my co-authors. It will be updated at the end of every week, so keep an eye out ;D.**

 **Yes, I do realize The Great Dragon was wrong about Aithusa's gender (calling her a "he" when she first hatched), but I'm excusing that as being due to the fact she was newly hatched and male pronouns are usually used as "go-to" terminology** **.**


	13. Chapter 13

XIII.

As dawn broke over the lake, Aithusa woke up, feeling rather strange. She had such a crazy dream that night. Wondering if it meant anything significant, her eyes immediately began to search for Kilgharrah. Sitting up, she realized she was no longer in pain. Was she honestly getting used to being a deformed _human_ , as well? The former dragoness sighed.

 _At least this is better than remaining in pain,_ she reasoned. To her concern, she noticed Kilgharrah was already awake and watching her intensely, as if half-expecting her to drop dead at any given moment. He was lying stomach-down on the sand a few yards away from the tree roots they all slept on, propping himself up by using his elbows.

"How are you feeling, Aithusa?" he asked her, the new sunlight making his eyes lighten from reddish-amber to the color of the sun itself. Usually, Aithusa would have chirped lightly to communicate that she felt perfectly fine, but that option was unavailable. Instead, she decided to smile as brilliantly as she could manage. To her surprise, Kilgharrah frowned and shook his head in disapproval. "I want you t _ell_ me—using words, young one."

 _What is he thinking?!_ Did he not remember the last time she attempted to speak? They discovered a new sound the night before, and it was something she did _not_ want to hear again! She looked at her elder as if he had sprouted an extra head. He simply reached one hand towards her, placing it in front of himself on the ground as if it was still a dragon's clawed foot.

"Trust me, dragoness." When others had addressed her as 'dragoness', it was usually with either awe or contempt…but when Kilgharrah—a fellow dragon—used the epithet, it was with tenderness. Not even Morgana had ever used such a gentle voice with her. Glancing nervously at the sleeping forms around her, Aithusa drew in a deep breath. Alhough she was loathe to awaken everyone else with such an unpleasant ruckus, she decided that Kilgharrah was wiser than her, and probably had reasons for hearing her 'speak'. She settled for as short a phrase as possible.

"I'm fine." Her eyes widened when she actually heard _real words_ coming out of her mouth. Glancing around, she wondered who else was speaking at the same time as she was. _This couldn't be real,_ she thought. _How could it be?_ "I'm alright." She said experimentally to Kilgharrah.

The former dragon sighed in relief.

"So," Kilgharrah said aloud, partially to himself, "the Sidhe kept their end of the bargain." Aithusa cautiously twisted so she could crawl out of her cradle of roots, until she came face to face with him.

"What bargain?" she whispered. Kilgharrah smiled, happy to hear her new, lovely voice. No dragon deserved to be kept silent...or in pain.

"Last night," he began his explanation, matching her soft volume to let the others sleep for longer. The process of walking was exhausting for all of them; they earned a good night's rest. "I spoke with the Sidhe. They graciously allowed us to spend the night _and_ attempted to heal your condition…for a small price."

"What was the price?" Aithusa frowned, her brow furrowing.

"We have to bring a companion with us to Camelot, of the Lady of the Lake's choosing."

"Who is the—" Aithusa was interrupted when Fawkes awakened from his slumber, rising to his knees and stretching his arms, the way he would have stretched his wings in the past.

Opening his eyes and blinking the sleep out of his black irises, the former phoenix noticed Aithusa was not in her temporary bed. Looking around in momentary panic, he spotted her, and his jaw dropped in shock. There she was, lying on her elbows in a mirror position to Kilgharrah…and she was perfectly healthy! Her gown was white as snow, her hair was no longer a few wisps, and her skin—though pale—had a new life in its tone. Most importantly, her armor now looked like it could actually _protect_ her from any attack! Further to his shock and delight, he could see she was conversing with the Great Dragon…with spoken language! He would have prodded Buckbeak and Pleionis awake, but they deserved some more rest. Standing and tiptoeing over to the pair on the sand, he perched himself next to them so the three formed a triangle, each facing the other two.

"How did this happen?" he whispered to them, "And, more importantly, how did I miss it?!" Normally, he was not so pettish, but it would have been phenomenal to witness whatever spell was cast to heal Aithusa's deformities and ailments…all in a single night!

"Last night, Kilgharrah convinced the…" Aithusa glanced at Kilgharrah, "Sidhe?" when he nodded in affirmation, Aithusa resumed talking (they all still couldn't believe it!) to Fawkes, "He convinced them to fix my deformities! He was just telling me what it is they wanted in return."

The pair looked expectantly at Kilgharrah, now fully golden once more. Kilgharrah was opening his mouth to respond when—.

"Aithusa?!" Buckbeak exclaimed as he noticed their female companion. "You're—you're not—" he simply couldn't get any words out of his humanized tongue. This was too unexpected. Instead of using words, he just beamed and sauntered over to the trio. Not minding that they were all crouched in the sand like it was a secret meeting, he remained standing. "What happened?!" Just then, Pleionis awakened as well.

"Good morning, everyone." He began pushing himself to his feet. "Forgive me if I'm stiff: I am not used to—" here he noticed what was different about Aithusa's physical state, and his previous train of thought was completely forgotten. "Aithusa, you look beautiful! What happened?"

"Well, you see—" Aithusa began, shocking the two newcomers even further with her sudden speech. Much to the disappointment of all, Kilgharrah—rather tired of interruptions—closed the matter for the time being and prepared himself for an announcement.

"In return for their unusual kindness," Kilgharrah began, "the Sidhe demanded we take on a mission to transport King Arthur Pendragon to his home in Camelot."

 **TO MY GUEST REVIEWER: Never fear—this story is not dying any time soon ;D. I'm afraid you'll have to wait for the explanation of Kilgharrah's color-shifting, though: I have to make sure it is given at** _ **exactly**_ **the right time (meaning when all the characters he'd ever tell are in his presence) :P! I am honored you would take the time to read my story (and especially that you'd like it so much :D)!**

 **Happy belated Thanksgiving to my readers in the United States :D!**

 **Happy Advent, everyone** **. IT'S ALMOST CHRISTMAS :D :D :D :D!**

 **ONE MORE THING: I started a** **YouTube Channel** **! There, I will be posting original content, such as poems and (possibly) even chapters from my original detective series,** _ **Heirs of Mystery**_ **! Who knows—if I get enough requests, I might post some other types of stories ;D. My YouTube name is still Jonquil Gemstone, and the icon is still the same lovely flower as it is here. My first video is an intro, and I will post a simple poem to start with on** **December 15** **th** **. I play a bit of music in the background to add some nice sound to read to. COMMENT, LIKE, and SUBSCRIBE ;).**

 **I own neither Merlin nor Harry Potter (sorry, but I'm out of ideas…this will be the standard disclaimer I fall back on :/).**


	14. Chapter 14

**I understand this is WAY too, short, but I wanted to let you know this story will NOT be dying any time soon ;D!**

XIV.

Arthur Pendragon sat inside a simple ferry, the current carrying him towards the shore. As he neared the sandy beach, he saw five figures holding commune by some trees. Two—a young man in golden armor and a maiden in white—were laying on their stomachs, propping themselves up with their elbows. A man wearing colors of fire, with hair to match, perched himself like a bird on the ground. Two other men—one in pure white and the other wearing mainly shades of grey—stood beside the group.

When Arthur arrived, the boat stopped itself and he stepped out. Tentatively, he stepped towards them.

 **MERRY CHRISTMAS! Aithusa's dream is now in the "Dreams" collection of one-shots, and an ORIGINAL Christmas poem is now on my YouTube channel!**

 **Expect a full chapter here soon ;)!**


	15. Chapter 15

XV.

Aithusa could scarcely believe her eyes. Surely, this was all a dream. First, she found herself completely healed. Next, she saw Arthur Pendragon, the son of a cruel man, walking towards her and her friends! To her utter surprise, Kilgharrah rose to meet him with enthusiasm.

"Arthur Pendragon," he greeted the only genuine human in the company, "it is my honor to meet you on friendly terms this time."

"Have we…met before?" Arthur narrowed his eyes even as he accepted the greeting.

"To put it bluntly, young Pendragon, I was the dragon who ransacked Camelot as revenge." King Arthur froze for a moment, then began laughing as if the golden-armored young man before him was merely joking.

"No, seriously, who are you?" When King Arthur received no verbal response, the truth dawned on him: this was no joke. "Wait a minute, you're serious?" he reached toward his hip, expecting to find Excalibur at his side but realizing he was unarmed.

"Keep in mind, I am also the dragon who let you and Merlin ride on my back to this lake." Kilgharrah added on to his own introduction. "You're welcome." Disregarding the young Pendragon's obvious confusion, the former dragon motioned to the rest of the company as he introduced them each by name. "Meet Fawkes, Buckbeak, Pleionis, and Aithusa. They will be your travel companions along with me, Kilgharrah." Kilgharrah moved past the group and paused at the edge of the forest to look back at them. "So…shall we move on? Camelot won't reunite _itself_ with its king."

"Kilgharrah, wait up!" Buckbeak hurried to his side. "What should I do about the trolls? They wanted me to leave a trail…"

"We've destroyed so many branches already," their leader reasoned, "they can easily find their way from here on out."

"Hold on," Arthur Pendragon raised his hands to emphasize his words, and locked eyes with Kilgharrah, turquoise meeting gold, "what is this I'm hearing about trolls?"

"Oh, that!" Kilgharrah said nonchalantly, as if Arthur had just reminded him of some far-off anecdote. "Yes, apparently, some troll terrorists are about to invade Camelot in less than two days."

"And you're leading them there?" the monarch clenched his teeth, clearly unhappy about the affair.

"All the more reason to move quickly, yes?"

"Give me one good reason why I ought to trust you."

"Hm, let's see now…" Kilgharrah counted off on his fingers, his typical humour returned, "you have no idea where these trolls might be, you have no idea how long you've been away or how things have changed in Camelot, and if anything goes wrong for you, none of your knights can help you, even if they _are_ still alive, since everyone in Albion thinks you dead. Essentially, we are your only known allies. Besides all of that," here he used a bit of a darker tone—this point was the most important to the dragon, "if we do not get you to Camelot safely, the Sidhe will not tolerate our incompetence. Such a disposition would mean very serious consequences for us." Kilgharrah turned around and marched off. "The decision is yours, Arthur!" he called over his shoulder.

The others all followed him, leaving the young Pendragon at a figurative crossroads. Muttering to himself, the clotpole decided to catch up with the group, if only because they were heading in the same direction to begin with.

 **Ah, finally! It feels quite nice to be reunited with my keyboard on this story** **.**

 **Feel free to review, and check out my YouTube channel and other fanfictions ;). Hopefully, I shall update sooner this time.**

 **I do not own** _ **Merlin**_ **, but I do own the character Pleionis.**


	16. Chapter 16

XVI.

As the company traveled onward to Camelot, Kilgharrah turned from the front.

"Pleionis, Buckbeak," he called back to the former equines, "perhaps you should lead."

"Why them?" Arthur asked, brushing tree branches away from his face. Kilgharrah let him catch up, then continued at the steady pace the designated hikers set.

"Isn't it obvious?" Kilgharrah tilted his head, encouraging him to think about it. When he received only a puzzled look in response, he sighed and explained. "Look at them, Arthur. See how much more naturally they navigate the ground. Alone, I have many virtues and abilities; however, the greatest ability is often to realize when one is out of his element. I fly over forests—walking through them is not my specialty."

"So…you're not all dragons?"

 _Yes, because there've been so many of us these past decades._ Kilgharrah was about to make a sarcastic remark, but Fawkes was at the monarch's side within a heartbeat.

"Actually, no. You see how each of us is dressed differently?" Kilgharrah chose to let Fawkes take this explanation. The former phoenix's eyes shone with enthusiasm for sharing information. "Well, that is because we each had different features before Kilgharrah turned us all human."

"Wait a second— _you_ did this to them?" Arthur pointed accusingly at Kilgharrah. Even to him, it seemed the pain of being altered beyond nature's limits was a sad burden to carry. "Why on Earth would you do such a thing?"

"Please, no interruptions" Fawkes sounded like a teacher chiding his student during a lesson. "Now, as I was saying, Kilgharrah turned us into humans as part of an escape plan which ties into our current situation. That aside, those of us with wings now wear capes, those with claws and talons have bladed weapons, those with scales have armor, and those with hooves carry hammers. Knowing that," here Fawkes decided to test Arthur Pendragon, "what would you estimate we were?"

"Is this for accuracy or completion?" Buckbeak drawled back over his shoulder.

"What do you mean?" Kilgharrah was intrigued. That question about 'accuracy or completion' and the way it was asked sounded like a very bizarre inside-joke. He brushed leaves out of his golden hair.

"Nothing," Buckbeak said, a bit too quickly, "so how 'bout it, King Arthur?"

"O…kay? Um…" Arthur looked around, then pointed directly to Kilgharrah. "You're a dragon."

"As I told you before." Kilgharrah deadpanned. "Well guessed, young Pendragon."

"I had to start _somewhere_. Anyways, you…" he pointed to Pleionis, "must've been a unicorn. Right?"

"Yes" Pleionis answered amicably. "As a matter of fact, the unicorn you killed and brought back to life was my best friend at the time! His name is Sirius, and he doesn't blame you one bit!"

"Oh," Arthur's face crumbled at the memory, "that's, erm, nice of him…Please give him my sincerest apologies; I don't know what I was thinking at the time."

"Oh, _he_ does. It's an ability we have to see our killer's thoughts the moment they slaughter us. You just wanted to make your father proud—we understand that. Besides, you brought him back only because you were noble enough of heart to pass the tests." Pleionis gazed back at Arthur with a sparkling, sincere expression. "It truly is an honor to travel with you, Your Majesty."

"I…thank you…"

"You're doing very well," Fawkes cut in, "but you must continue. Show me what you know about creatures of magic!"

"Yes, um…you must be a…bird of paradise? No, wait! A phoenix! Am I right?"

"Yes, indeed you are." Fawkes cooed, obviously pleased. "Now, how about Buckbeak and Aithusa?" Aithusa had been trailing behind, observing the newcomer thoughtfully.

"Buckbeak looks like a…griffin...and Aithusa is…erm…either a dragon or a lovely reptile-creature."

"There's a difference?" Kilgharrah poked fun.

"Between a griffin and a _hippogriff_? Yes." Buckbeak misinterpreted Kilgharrah's joke. "But, it's close enough."

"I meant between a dragon and a 'lovely reptile-creature'" he explained.

"I'm a dragoness" Aithusa told Arthur. "You don't act very cruel or unjust."

"Were you expecting me to?" Arthur lifted his eyebrows.

"Perhaps" she admitted. "I was friends with Morgana for a long time, and…she always told me you and your father were horrible men, but that you always thought you were in the right for persecuting magic in all its forms."

"My father went too far," Arthur conceded, "but I honestly believe he was good at heart. He didn't know what he was doing…"

"Oh, but I think he did" Kilgharrah spoke out. "His heart was as cold and hard as stone."

"Excuse me, but what right do you have to say that about _my father_?"

"I knew him personally for many years, long before you were born. As a matter of fact, I knew him better than you ever did." Kilgharrah related this all matter-of-factly. "Deep down, Arthur Pendragon, you know what I say is true. It's touching that you care so much about upholding his perceived honor, and you're a wonderful leader destined for greatness…but you are the only redeeming part of Uther's story."

Arthur was quiet for a while after that, as was everyone else. After what seemed like an eternity, Aithusa spoke up.

"You know, Arthur," she said, "I'm beginning to think Uther cared about you more than anyone here could ever imagine."

"Oh, no." Buckbeak noticed something off the side of the beaten path. "You might want to look at this, everyone." Kilgharrah made his way there and peered over the hippogriff's shoulder. What he said next made everyone's hearts sink into their feet.

"Troll footprints."

 **I do not own** _ **Merlin**_ **, but I do own Pleionis. His cousin, though…eh, that's not canon for him or for** _ **Merlin**_ **, so…I guess BBC can take Sirius the Undead Unicorn** **!**

 **Check out my YOUTUBE CHANNEL and my other stories!**

 **Follow/Favorite, Review, and hold on tightly until the next chapter** **.**


	17. Chapter 17

XVII.

"So the trolls really a _re_ following us!" Arthur exclaimed. "You told me we had time."

"Yes, the trolls never _were_ known for honesty," Kilgharrah mused, "but I thought their dead leader would have slowed them down more significantly."

"Hang on, dead leader? How did their leader die?"

"I killed him while we were escaping the Mines of Torment" Kilgharrah explained to the anxious king. "This means Camelot is in danger sooner than we expected…and you can probably shed the role of double-agent, Buckbeak" he continued, leaving Arthur's reaction to its own devices.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Buckbeak heaved a sigh of relief. "I honestly have a distaste for the position." _Bad memories,_ he added internally. Shadiness reminded him of Severus Snape, which reminded him of the Death Eaters, which reminded him of Sirius Black's demise and his own run-ins with them. "What's more, I simply couldn't live in that state!" It was true: shedding the role was a heavy weight off his shoulders.

"They'll reach Camelot before us, at this rate!" Aithusa cried out, "What should we do?"

"There's a colony of wood nymphs nearby," Kilgharrah remarked. "We can ask them for help, but it would have to be someone charming. Wood nymphs only help young men they find polite, sincere, and captivating."

"That's rather superficial of them," Aithusa commented.

"Alright, I suppose I'll go, if it's what's needed" Arthur Pendragon volunteered, ever the martyr.

"Don't be so sure, Pendragon" Kilgharrah put out a golden-armoured arm to stop him. "First of all, you were heading the wrong way. Second," he dropped his voice to a heavier tone, "your family is not well-liked in these parts. Uther burned entire forests to exterminate wood nymphs, until Camelot ran short of logging materials."

"Do you know them well, by any chance?" Pleionis asked mildly. He looked around at the eligible males in the company. "Anyone?" Everyone stared back at him. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Excuse me…is something the matter?"

"Polite," Buckbeak remarked. He knew respect when he saw it.

"Sincere," Kilgharrah could see it plainly.

"And captivating." As a phoenix, Fawkes knew what captivated people. There was a moment of silence while Pleionis met all their gazes. At last, he sighed.

"Very well, then. I will go speak to them. Where are they, Great Dragon?"

 **After this will come MORE FUN and a new addition to the** _ **Dreams**_ **collection from Kilgharrah's P.O.V.**

 **Subscribe to me on YouTube, follow/favorite me here, and leave a review. Your reviews honestly do make my day :D** **!**

 **Check out my other stories on my profile, and as always, hang on tightly until the next update!**

 **I do not own Merlin or Harry Potter, but Happy St. Patrick's Day to everyone around the world!**

 **Myrna Suarez has recently posted a St. Patrick's Day music video on YouTube. I highly recommend her channel ;D** **!**


	18. Chapter 18

XVIII.

Polaris walked to the center of the Whispering Ring, where the wood nymphs were said to gather. He was not entirely sure of how to summon them. Kilgharrah said to "just ask" them for help. Glancing back, he could see the others waiting in a group a short way behind him.

"I beg your pardon," he bowed to the circle of trees surrounding him, "but I am in desperate need of help. Would you perchance be willing to come out and meet me this fine day?" At his request, the leaves rustled around him without any wind. It was like they were discussing what to do. "Please: I wish to see you. I've heard you're very enchanting to behold, and kind to those you choose to help." The leaves sounded like they were giggling coyly. Soon, Pleionis saw the wood nymphs appearing. They came in various sizes, and their garments matched whatever they lived in. All of them had earthy brown skin with green-tinted eyes and hair. They did not emit any glow, like most flying spirits; instead, they emitted fresh scents reminiscent of their homes. There was one for every flower and every tree in the glen. Their floral and earthy scents hung thickly in the air, like an aromatic treatment.

An oak nymph approached his face, hovering close to him and scrutinizing his face. She was one of the largest ones—slightly taller than his hand. Her raiment was a rough-looking dress of bark and leaf leggings. Her loose hair was not as smooth-looking as the flower nymphs, and her manner was stoic and matronly. Her wings resembled oak leaves made of spiders' silk. She zoomed around him a couple of times, then came back to his face and pointed to the group awaiting him.

"Those are my friends," Pleionis explained. "Would you like me to introduce them?"

She considered for a moment before shaking her head. She smiled at him and nodded to the other nymphs. They all began speaking in unison; otherwise, no one else could understand their language. It was like the gentle rustling of the forest united into one coherent voice.

"What is it your heart desires of us?" they inquired of Pleionis.

"An evil group of trolls is on its way to Camelot," he explained, "and we cannot reach it in time to deliver a warning. All I ask is that Merlin and Queen Guinevere receive the message." The oak nymph's smile widened. At her signal, a host of gorse flower nymphs flew off in the direction of Camelot, their yellow garments fluttering as they left.

"Guinevere will receive your warning," the nymphs assured him, "as will Merlin, the court warlock."

"Thank you," Pleionis breathed a sigh of relief and bowed deeply, "for everything!"

The oak nymph giggled and planted a kiss on his forehead before she and the other nymphs of the forest receded into their homes.

Pleionis took one last look around him and left smiling. Without the fear of being too late to warn Camelot, spirits were much brighter as the traveling group continued on their way. The Sun was already past its peak. Time was flying quickly.

"When it gets dark," Arthur suggested, "we should make camp…if it's alright with you." Out of deference, he handed the ultimate say to Kilgharrah. After all, he and the others were the ones taking the king on _their_ journey. To his surprise, Kilgharrah made no sarcastic remarks, but considered his statement seriously!

"Alright," he said, "I suppose we could spare the time for resting."

That evening they all made great time. For magical beings, they were mastering their human forms very well, Arthur had to admit. This time, he went hunting with Buckbeak and Aithusa, and the three of them caught enough food for everyone. By the time they reached their campsite for the night, the Moon had risen, and Arthur noticed something.

"Kilgharrah," he decided to ask about it, "why did you change color all of a sudden?"

"That's what we all keep asking!" Fawkes exclaimed.

"When the time is right…now, how about we entertain ourselves for a while?" Kilgharrah managed to kick back with his back against a sturdy tree. It felt so strange to him, pressing his back against something with his legs crossed at the ankles. _How do humans do this instinctively?_ "After all, too much stress at once is bad for the health."

"Does it have to do with your health?" Buckbeak asked.

"No, and I won't tell you until _after_ we reach Camelot! Now do try to settle your curiosity and—"

"I know a game we can play" Arthur spoke up, having taught a very fascinated Fawkes how to use flint stones to start a fire. He spoke while turning their soon-to-be food on a makeshift spit.

"Splendid!" Kilgharrah leaned forwards and settled into a more comfortable position: lying on his stomach, resting on his elbows, like he was at the beach.

"Do you promise to play by the rules, no matter what?" Arthur asked like a suspicious child to its elder.

"That depends on exactly what the rules are," Kilgharrah shot his answer back.

"I won't play unless you do…unless you're scared," Artur smirked at him.

"Goading me into playing by using my pride?" Kilgharrah raised his eyebrows. "You learn fast, young one. Alright, but only to reward your efforts—and," he added, "you must not make anyone do anything dangerous." He would have added 'or foolish', but that would have been too subjective of a term. _Besides,_ he said, _it might be one of those fun-through-humiliation style games._ He remembered the sadistic nature of human entertainment all too well.

"Agreed!" Arthur sounded triumphant. "The game is called 'Truth or Dare'."

 _Have I ever played that before?_ Kilgharrah wondered. Then, the title hit him. _Truth_ or Dare. _Why, that crafty little—._

"Here are the rules…"

 **I promised you fun, and here it comes!**

 **I wasn't originally going to include Pleionis talking to the wood nymphs, but lilyblaney has been so faithful and enthusiastic in reviewing, I simply couldn't let her down** **! Did you like my portrayal of them, lilyblaney?**

 **I came up with how I thought wood nymphs would be like, so…does that make them my nameless OCs?**

 **I own neither Merlin nor Harry Potter.**


	19. Chapter 19

XIX.

Arthur explained the rules of Truth-or-Dare, enjoying the look on Kilgharrah's face all too much! As he told them the basics, the others all glanced sadistically at the golden-armored "youth". Arthur still didn't understand how such an old relic could have a timeless face like that, but he resolved to find out soon enough.

"You choose to either tell a truth or do a dare…and if you fail at the option you choose," Arthur added his special rule, "you must do the opposite."

"Yes—well, ah," for once, Kilgharrah glanced around at his companions, who were all arranged in a ring around the cooking food, Arthur turning the spit with a smile playing across his lips. "is everyone in agreement with this?" Nods all around. _Blast it!_ They must all have had curiosity gnawing at their hearts. Kilgharrah saw it in their eyes! "Fine," he grumbled, "but you must demonstrate by going first, Arthur Pendragon!"

"Okay, then," the king shrugged. "Ask me the question, since you're so eager."

"Truth or dare, young Pendragon?"

"Truth." Arthur stated boldly. Kilgharrah wondered at first what he should ask him, but then he smiled and began laughing uncontrollably at a memory. "What's the truth you want? Come on, out with it!" Arthur frowned and waved impatiently, looking all too much like Uther.

"Wha—what was it like…" Kilgharrah bent his face to the ground, trying to get out the laughter before going on. When that failed, he continued between chortles. "What was it like…having a troll for a stepmother? Tell us every detail abo—about your…experience!" At this point, forced himself to concentrate, staring at Arthur attentively. _I've got you, Pendragon!_

"What?" the assembly exclaimed in unified shock, "What do you mean, _'a troll for a stepmother'?_ "

"Uther Pendragon remarried…but his second wife was a _troll_ in disguise!" Kilgharrah explained, even as Arthur looked almost ready to vomit. "As you just heard, I asked for e _very detail_."

"How…" Arthur silently begged to know how Kilgharrah learned this information.

"Never mind that, just tell!" Kilgharrah urged him.

"Yes, tell us!" Aithusa clearly pitied him, but she was the only one. Even Pleionis guiltily chuckled, clearly knowing it was cruel but unable to stop himself.

Arthur told everything about the experience, including how they actually s _aw_ her true form and slayed her. He told about the deception, the times leading up to the wedding, catching Merlin spying on her (which everyone found hilarious), the dung chair, the cruel attitude towards him, and his conversation with Uther once the whole affair was over with. It was an enrapturing adventure, and even Kilgharrah found himself semi-pitying Uther and satisfied at the ending.

"Now, Great Dragon…" Arthur took his turn to call him out. "Truth or Dare?"

"I will take…a dare." As unfair as it seemed, he did wish to try a dare.

"Oh, come on!"

"I have made my decision, and I will bear the consequences."

"Alright" Arthur said, although he clearly didn't sound too pleased. "I dare you…to do a headstand until your next turn!"

Kilgharrah's eyes went wide. "I'll never be able to accomplish it!"

"Too bad you've 'made your decision', right, old timer?" Arthur pulled the meat away from the fire, and everyone took their share, keeping a keen eye on the darkened Kilgharrah.

The Great Dragon set his jaw. If he had to attempt the dare, so be it! He knew Arthur would not allow leaning against a tree for support. He had done nose dives numerous times. _How could this be any different?_ He tried to tell himself. Managing to upend himself, Kilgharrah staggered about on his frail human hands, his cape falling over his head and onto the ground. _Don't step on it_ , he coached himself, _don't step on it, no matter what you do._

"He's doing it!" Aithusa exclaimed in wonder. He could hear Arthur swearing under his breath. Fawkes and Buckbeak started betting on how long he could stand, while Pleionis voiced concern that he not injure himself.

Before he knew it, though, he—once the Great Golden Dragon—tipped over and fell on his back, yanking his feet inward just in time to escape the campfire's burning flames.

"So, Kilgharrah," Arthur's smug face appeared over his own, a rabbit's leg in one hand and an open palm in the other. "Get up, and tell us why you change color at night."

Sighing in resignation, Kilgharrah accepted the hand and took the meat. "Very well, young king." _Where do I begin?_

 **Happy Easter, everyone! I suspect a friend of mine may have fallen victim to a flesh-eating bunny rabbit who steals memories, so be careful the rest of the season, and keep a hunting utensil handy at all times. I won't lose anyone else, you hear me, rabbit?!**

 **In any case, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it, 'cause it was a** _ **fun one**_ **! Next, the secret of the colors will come out!**

 **DREAMS: I've been receiving requests for a Kilgharrah dream in the Dreams collection, and don't worry—** _ **I have it written!**_ **I won't post it, however, until Kilgharrah falls asleep and dreams** _ **in here**_ **, in keeping with the spirit and purpose of said collection** **!**


	20. Chapter 20

XX.

"Now, where do I begin?" Kilgharrah mused. Looking at him, Arthur could tell he was almost as old as civilization itself…maybe older. "It's rather an embarrassing tale from my youth."

"That must have been long ago," Fawkes cooed in awe.

"Really, _really_ long ago," Arthur added.

"Yes, yes it was," Kilgharrah affirmed nonchalantly. "Now let's see…it was long before the founding of Camelot. In a land of myth and a time of magic, the fate of—"

"Just get on with it already!" Arthur groaned. Buckbeak shot him a menacing glare.

"No interruptions, Arthur Pendragon," the former hippogriff simply could not tolerate rude behavior.

"You would do well to listen, Arthur. The lessons of the past give wisdom for the future," Kilgharrah sounded like one of Arthur's private tutors from childhood. He could still remember the long, moustache and the squinted eyes.

 _I wonder what happened to him,_ Arthur wondered absentmindedly. The sight of Kilgharrah setting down a bare rabbit leg and clearing his throat drew him back to full attention. This was a lecture he couldn't miss!

"It all started after the Cockatrice Wars, when all other creatures finally had the opportunity to live in peace and harmony with one another. However, dragons had only recently come into being, and their only experience had been war and bloodshed. With nothing to sate their thirst for challenge and adventure in peacetime, the rising second generation of dragons grew bored, and they grew more slowly than their parents as a result."

 _So, boredom stints growth in dragons,_ Fawkes noted. _It must have to do with a need for experience._

"I was a part of this second generation, and I was awfully curious about everything. One day, I was exploring a forest when I happened upon a young boy named Aurelius. He was an unusual sort, and I could sense magic in him."

"Was he my ancestor?" Arthur asked.

"Merlin's, actually. Now, as I was saying, I sensed magic in him. At the time, I was only about the size of a horse, so I was able to land behind surrounding trees and observe him from a distance. Warlocks and dragonlords did not yet exist, so I wondered…" On and on Kilgharrah went, describing his adventures with the young boy Aurelius. Eventually, he got to a point after Camelot's founding, when the incident he had mentioned earlier was finally going to take place. Kilgharrah had forgotten his previous embarrassment at the memory, and was actually rather excited to share with his new allies. Looking around, he noticed they were all dozing off. "It seems I went off on a tangent," he whispered, chuckling. "Goodnight, everyone."

Settling into a comfortable position, Kilgharrah closed his eyes and fell asleep. That one boy started it all, and Arthur and Merlin ended that arc of history…he found himself thinking of the generation which came just before that last harrowing chapter of Albion's tale: the one including Uther, Igraine, and even Balinor. Even with his knowledge of their part in history, the way their paths all ended still came as such a shock to him.

 **Happy Fourth of July to my readers in the USA!**

 **Finally, the long-awaited chapter where KILGHARRAH FALLS ASLEEP! You can all find his dream in the** _ **Dreams**_ **collection.**

 **I will also be writing a** **spinoff story** **recounting Kilgharrah's meeting and first adventure with Aurelius. It will most likely end with the Founding of Camelot, or it may continue just a bit longer so you can see more of Arthur's ancestor, Vortigern.** _ **I don't intend to post it, however, until it's finished.**_

 **Fear not** **: the story of Kilgharrah's color-changing, as well as other stories having directly to do with this fanfiction,** _ **will still be in here!**_

 **I do not own Merlin or Harry Potter.**


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